Desi Wife Bath Video
“So my little fuck-slut, is my cock getting your twat good and hot?” I sneered at her. She hesitated and then nodded meekly as I pounded away. “I guess you’d like to cum then, wouldn’t you? Do you think I should give you permission to paint my cock with your stinking fuck-juice?” I spat at her. Again she nodded, this time with a lot more enthusiasm as we both heard the rhythmic slap of my balls hitting her ass cheeks. “Well what are you waiting for bitch?” I yelled at her. “Are you fucking frigid or are you going to give my cock a sticky cum-bath?”The combination of my thrusting fuck-stick and filthy talk took Mom over the top, and I heard her groan as her juice spattered over my cock. As soon as I knew she was cumming I whipped my shaft from her cunt and jammed it past her partially-closed sphincter deep inside her shitter. Her eyes flew open and her back arched, at least until she felt the bite of the noose, and her cum was spurting forcefully from her now gaping twat and splashing. If it enclosed a coat, then that was all I could wear. A hat and thigh-high boots? That was it then. He had never forced me to leave the apartment naked but he had directed me to Pink's in a short crimson Chanel faux fur with nothing but baby oil underneath. It was thrilling, sexy in the most intense way imaginable for me. I would get in his car with my skin tingling, my heart beating fast, stomach fluttering like we were meeting for the first time each time. I would hold my head down and steal peeks at him from the corner of my eye, his profile sharp, stern and in my imagination, he was the epitome of masculinity and strength. This Nubian king ruled me with an iron hand in the the proverbial velvet glove and I did not resist. If he wanted me to keep my head down in the car until he gave permission otherwise, fine. If he wanted me to meet at Starbucks at 6am in a halter-top and hip-huggers, so be it. I no longer felt the insecurities about my body that had plagued me throughout my.
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